The sky glowed a fiery orange as the first rays of sunlight pierced the smoke-cloaked horizon. The world held its breath as silence stretched across the valley where two armies stood—one forged in unity, the other in corruption.
From my vantage point atop a high ridge overlooking the battlefield, I could see the endless mass of the Harbinger's forces. Dark-armored soldiers stood like statues, flanked by grotesque aberrations—beasts twisted by forbidden mana, their forms shifting unnaturally as if they were still trying to remember what they once were.
The air shimmered with power. It was thick with mana, yes—but deeper than that, it pulsed with tension. Fear. Resolve. Destiny.
Beside me stood Kieran, Elara, Cira, and Lord Kaelen. Our generals, commanders, and trusted warriors were already in place. Behind us, tens of thousands stood ready—rebels, resistance fighters, soldiers of the forgotten continent, steampunk exo-guards, spellbreakers, and mana knights.
They were all waiting for a signal.
My signal.
The First Move
Cira leaned slightly toward me, her voice quiet. "They're trying to provoke us. The Harbinger is watching, waiting for us to break formation."
"He's probing our discipline," Lord Kaelen added. "Looking for weakness."
I nodded slowly, then turned to the forces below. My voice rang out, amplified by a magical broadcast rune:
"Stand firm! Today is not the end. It is the beginning of our reclaiming!"
A cheer rose, rumbling through the ranks like thunder. They were ready.
The first volley came without warning.
Dozens of shadow bolts streaked across the sky from the Harbinger's side, hissing through the air. Cira raised her arm and barked a command.
A shimmering dome of Divin energy expanded over our front lines—one of the steampunk continent's shield technologies—catching the first wave of dark magic and dispersing it into harmless flickers of light.
"Return fire!" Kaelen ordered.
Arcanists stepped forward, launching bolts of pure mana, kinetic shells, and burstfire spells into the enemy ranks. The sky was instantly alight with streaks of color and death.
The battle had begun.
Clash of Steel and Shadows
Within moments, the field devolved into chaos.
The Harbinger's front lines charged, a wave of screaming soldiers and aberrations crashing into ours. Mana exploded, weapons clanged, and the screams of the dying filled the morning air.
I descended into the battle at the front, the Crown Mark already glowing bright across my body. With each step, the battlefield seemed to slow—Divin threads pulsing at my fingertips, the very flow of time bending subtly around me.
A corrupted beast lunged, snarling. I sidestepped fluidly, channeling the Mark through my palm, releasing a wave of kinetic force that tore the creature apart mid-air. Its twisted body shattered into black smoke and dissipated into the wind.
To my left, Elara fought with fierce elegance. She danced through the chaos, gauntlets flaring with explosive bursts as she shattered enemy shields and sent warriors flying. Kieran blinked from enemy to enemy, his blade singing as it found openings none could have seen.
Cira's voice rang out behind us, commanding squads of hybrid soldiers—mages wielding tech-enhanced gear—who laid down suppressing fire while holding defensive lines.
And then, I saw him.
The Harbinger's General
A massive figure emerged from the heart of the enemy formation—towering, draped in jet-black armor etched with runes that pulsed with violet light. In his hands, he carried a greatsword taller than most men.
A silencer... no.
Not just a silencer.
One of the Harbinger's chosen.
I stepped forward as the battlefield instinctively opened around us. Even the enemy gave the warrior space, fearful of being caught in the coming storm.
"I am called Vaelrik, First Blade of the Harbinger," he rumbled, voice like grinding stone. "And you are the Crownbearer."
He lifted his sword in salute. "Good. You die with honor."
I didn't waste breath on threats.
I raised my blade—still the crystalline weapon born of the Crown—and moved.
Sylas vs. Vaelrik
He swung first—fast, unbelievably fast for someone his size.
I twisted away, the massive sword narrowly missing me and tearing a ten-foot gash through the earth. The ground quaked beneath us.
I retaliated with a sweep of Divin-forged energy, threads of golden light spinning from my blade. Vaelrik raised his arm, absorbing the blow with a ward sigil embedded in his armor.
He was strong. Too strong to outmuscle.
But maybe not too strong to outmaneuver.
I activated Temporal Dissonance, stepping through fractured seconds. The world slowed, Vaelrik's next swing crawling through the air like a falling mountain.
I darted forward, driving my blade toward a joint in his armor—but the moment I struck, energy pulsed from his body, throwing me back violently.
I crashed against a nearby tree, the trunk cracking from the force.
Vaelrik advanced slowly, unfazed. "You fight well… but you fight alone."
I grinned, spitting blood. "Do I?"
Turning the Tide
As Vaelrik raised his sword again, a barrage of fire and compressed mana slammed into his side. He staggered as Elara and Kieran appeared, weapons flaring.
"You think we'd let you solo a war boss without us?" Kieran smirked.
"Idiot," Elara muttered. "You almost got your spine split."
With the three of us together, we pressed the attack. Kieran flickered through space, carving precise slashes into the cracks of Vaelrik's armor. Elara struck with perfectly timed force punches, shattering his balance.
And I, focused and calm, unleashed the Crown—not in rage, but in control.
Golden chains of Divin energy erupted from the ground, binding Vaelrik's limbs. He roared in fury, breaking one—then two—but it was enough.
Elara leapt high, fists glowing, and struck his helm with a mana-enhanced uppercut.
It shattered.
Vaelrik fell, armor cracked, blood pooling beneath him.
He looked at me through one shattered eye. "The Harbinger… knows your weakness. He will break you."
I leaned close. "Then he'll have to try harder."
With a final surge of Crown power, I drove my blade into his chest.
The First Blade of the Harbinger was no more.
Smoke and Silence
The battlefield had begun to shift.
The death of Vaelrik sent ripples through the enemy lines. Their charge faltered, coordination began to break. The aberrations—once wild and relentless—grew confused, untethered.
Galen's forces surged from the western flank, pressing hard. Lord Kaelen led the mechanized warriors from the eastern ridge, launching salvos that obliterated entire formations.
Cira's commandos disabled enemy supply lines, collapsing their rear guard.
And then—
The retreat horn sounded.
The Harbinger's army was falling back.
But not defeated.
No, this was a feint.
I could feel it in the way the Crown trembled on my skin. A storm was still building. A larger plan was in motion.
Aftermath
We regrouped by dusk. Fires were lit across the field for warmth and light. Medics treated the wounded, and the dead were respectfully laid out, cloaked in the flags of their factions.
I stood with my friends atop the ridge where Vaelrik had fallen.
"We held," Elara whispered. "But this… this was only the beginning."
Kieran nodded grimly. "He was testing us. Measuring our strength. The next wave will be worse."
Cira approached from behind, handing me a scroll bearing the crest of Ouro Division. "Intercepted communication from deep within the Forsaken Continent."
I unrolled it.
It was a simple message written in a strange blend of ancient language and modern glyphs.
The Chained God stirs. The Gate will open. The Harbinger prepares the ritual.
I handed the scroll to Lord Kaelen, my voice low.
"It's starting."
He nodded. "And if the Chained God is unsealed…"
"We won't just be fighting to survive," I finished grimly. "We'll be fighting to hold reality together."